


And the Fork Ran Away with the Spoon

by Comet260



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek Hale Can Have Nice Things, Episode: s04e02 117, M/M, Pre-Slash, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:24:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1909125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comet260/pseuds/Comet260
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles gets stuck taking care of Derek while he recovers from the after effects of magically re-aging himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the Fork Ran Away with the Spoon

**Author's Note:**

> After Stiles complained about always being the little spoon with Malia, I just couldn't shake the idea that maybe things would be different with Derek. So I wrote it.

So, as it turns out, re-aging yourself through sheer will and self-sacrifice takes a lot out of a guy.

By the time Stiles and Lydia find Scott, Kira and Malia are cradling an unconscious, but no longer seventeen year old Derek, while Scott is on the phone with someone who can only be Deaton.

“I don’t know, he just…yeah…yeah…no, he’s definitely breathing.   Yeah, ok…thanks Doc.”

“Well,” says Lydia, voicing what everyone else is thinking, “what the hell are we supposed to do with him now?”

“Deaton thinks the best thing to do is take him back to his apartment and let him sleep it off. He says a transformation like that took a lot out of him and he probably just needs a good night’s rest.”

Stiles remains unconvinced. “Seriously,” he asks, one eyebrow raised, “Deaton’s prescription is a good night’s rest?”

Scott just shrugs. “C’mon, help me get him out of here.”

*****

Stiles and Malia help Scott lug Derek’s lifeless form to the Jeep, and they shove him in to the back. Lydia and Kira catch up to them and they all sort of stand awkwardly around the Jeep for a few minutes before Scott finally speaks up.

“It’s late, you guys should just go home. There’s really nothing else we can do tonight anyway. Stiles and I will bring Derek home and then tomorrow we can figure out what to do.”

Malia and Kira nod, but Lydia looks hesitant.

Scott wrinkles his brow at her. “What is it?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” Lydia sighs. “Don’t you think someone should stay with him again? We have literally zero clue about what’s going on in his head right now and leaving him alone just seems like a really bad idea.”

“No. No no no no no no no nooooo.” Stiles interrupts before Lydia can continue. “I know that look, that’s the Lydia-Is-Going-To-Take-Care-Of-This-Herself look and - ”

“Stiles -“

“No,” he cuts her off again. “I’m serious. You were up all night last night. You’re not doing this.”

“Fine,” Lydia counters with a hard look in her eyes, “are you volunteering then?”

“I’ll do it,” Scott says before Stiles can answer. But then Stiles realizes something.

“No, Scott you can’t either,” Stiles finds himself saying. “If you don’t come home another night your dad will literally lose his shit. I’ll do it, it’s fine. At least this time I can tell my dad what I’m actually doing -babysitting Derek Hale.”

Scott reluctantly agrees. “Fine. You’re right. Ok, Malia, can you catch a ride back with Lydia and Kira?”

Malia looks at Stiles for some reason when she responds. “Yeah, sure.”

“Great,” Scott says and he turns towards Kira to give her a hug goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?” She nods and gives him a peck on the lips with a mischievous smile. Malia is still looking at Stiles. He feels like he’s supposed to do something but he isn’t sure what. Should he kiss her goodbye? Give her a hug? Or was she waiting for him to offer to drive her home? But that doesn’t make sense, her house is in the complete opposite direction of Derek’s apartment and –

“Bye Stiles.” Malia says with a wave, interrupting his thoughts. Right, saying goodbye is a good place to start. Stiles manages an awkward wave as she turns to get into Lydia’s car.

*****

By the time they get Derek up the stairs and into his loft, it’s one a.m. and he has started to regain some consciousness. Which you might think would make it easier to move him around but you would be wrong.

“C’mon Derek, stop fighting me!” Stiles groans, dodging Derek’s swinging arm as they maneuver him onto the bed.

“I guess we should change his clothes,” Scott suggests unhelpfully after they’ve finally managed to arrange him in to a somewhat comfortable looking position.

“What? Are you serious? We literally carried the guy up four flights of stairs; I am not changing his clothes.”

Scott just gives him a look.

“What?” Stiles asks, not entirely sure that he wants to know.

“You did it for Jackson.”

Stiles sputters indignantly, “Scott! I thought we swore to never speak of that again!”

Scott just holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender as Stiles storms off to find Derek something to sleep in.

“Ugh, fine!” He sees a dresser in the corner of the loft and opens the top drawer. “Derek owns nothing but black and grey,” he mumbles to himself as he grabs some sweats, “why am I not surprised.”

They then attempt to divest Derek of his incredibly tight jeans.

“How…does…he…even…get…these…on?” Stiles pants in between pulls. Scott, with his werewolf strength, is faring slightly better and between the two of them, they finally manage to strip him down. At least he’s wearing underwear. Stiles pointedly does not notice that Derek is wearing black boxer briefs because that would be weird. Though he does make haste to get the sweat pants on so that he can stop _not_ looking at said offending underwear. Stiles then throws a blanket over Derek for good measure.

“Ok Scott, the big bad wolf is all tucked in, now go home before your dad gets too suspicious.”

Scott moves toward the door, but still looks hesitant. “Are you sure you’re going to be ok?”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles says “Derek and I are going to be great! Right buddy?” He slaps Derek’s shoulder. Derek groans in response. “See? Great.”

“Ok,” Scott says, unable to hold back a grin, “but call me if you need anything!” And then he’s gone.

“Well,” Stiles says turning to Derek, “I guess it’s just you and me now. Just like old times.” Derek groans again. “I’m so glad I can always count on you for your stimulating conversation skills.” Derek doesn’t dignify that one with a response.

Stiles sighs, goes to lay down on the couch, and is asleep before he can even turn out the lights.

*****

Stiles wakes up several hour later to the dulcet sounds of vomiting - which can only mean one thing.

“Derek?” he calls out, “are you ok?”

No response, even though there’s no way Derek didn’t hear him. Stiles gets up and walks over to the bathroom. Derek is no longer puking, but he’s sitting on the floor with his back to the wall looking absolutely wrecked.

“I’m fine, Stiles.”

Stiles is suddenly annoyed. “You don’t _look_ fine. You look like you just aged yourself up by about ten years, took on a fight you knew you couldn’t win, and then spent the past five hours completely passed out – oh that’s right, that’s because you DID.”

“It’s not a big deal, I’ll be ok.”

“Yeah, sure, ok tough guy. Can you at least get up?”

“Yes,” Derek says, sounding like the petulant teenager that he no longer is.

Stiles just stands there impatiently, waiting for Derek to get up. In the harsh light of the bathroom he notices the bags under Derek’s eyes and how thin and pale his skin looks. Derek, oblivious to Stiles’ scrutiny, tries to stand, but he seems unable to support his own weight and stumbles towards the sink. Stiles, prepared for this inevitable outcome, manages to catch him before he can crack his head open.

“Derek c’mon,” Stiles reasons, using a much softer voice than before, “You just need to rest, ok? I’m sure by tomorrow morning you’ll be back to your usual badass self, but for right now I just need you to trust me and let me take care of you. Okay?”

Derek turns his head away from Stiles and huffs in response, which Stiles figures is probably the closest to agreement he’s ever going to get from Derek anyway.

As they make their way back towards the bed, Stiles supporting most of Derek’s weight, Derek mumbles, “You really think I’m a badass?”

Stiles scoffs, “No _dumbass_ , I just said that to get on your good side.” He deposits Derek on the edge on the bed. “Did it work?”

“No,” Derek replies, but Stiles thinks he sees the beginnings of a smile in the corner of Derek’s mouth. Or at the very least a smirk. He counts it as a win, and goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“Here,” he says, thrusting the glass in Derek’s face. “Drink this.”

“Wow,” Derek deadpans, “what did I do to deserve such a great bedside manner?”

Stiles’ only response is to glare and shake the glass in Derek’s face, spilling some of it in the process. Derek takes the glass and makes a show of brushing the spilled water off of his lap. He looks confused.

“Did you…change my clothes?”

“Well yeah,” Stiles says, trying to make it sound like it’s not weird. “What you were wearing before looked uncomfortable, so…” Stiles shrugs. “And you had the audacity to complain about my bedside manner.” There’s no response but Stiles is sure that this time he did actually see the hint of a smile. He takes it as a cue to sit on the bed.

“So…do you remember anything from when you were, you know, a teenager?” Stiles immediately wishes he hadn’t asked.   Derek’s entire demeanor changes, where he had stated to look a little calmer, he now suddenly looks like the entire weight of the world has been dropped on his shoulders.

“I remember everything.”

Stiles feels like an asshole. He isn’t sure what to say, now that he’s brought it up. They’ve never actually talked about anything like this before. Eventually he settles on, “It isn’t your fault.”

It’s not the right thing to say.

Derek is…angry is probably a good way to describe it. Yeah, angry. Suddenly very, very angry. “Do you think that matters, Stiles? It doesn’t change anything! Do you think that’s supposed to be a comfort to me?” Derek stands up and starts pacing, presumably unable to sit still, “People are dead because of me, because of the things I’ve done!   Do you really think that hearing you say it isn’t my fault is supposed to change any of that?”

“Sit.”

“What?”

“Sit. Down. If you pass out again I’m leaving you on the floor.”

“Stiles, I don’t care!” Derek roars at him, “I don’t need you to –“

“I swear to god Derek! If you don’t sit down on the fucking bed right now I will force feed you wolfsbane tea until you’re unconscious!”

Derek glares at him, “that is the most ridiculous –“

Stiles flails. “JUST SIT DOWN!”

Derek sits. He tries to pretend he doesn’t stumble along the way. Stiles affords him no such courtesy and hmmpf’s to let Derek know he has essentially just proven him right. They glare in opposite directions for a minute, until Stiles can’t take it anymore and breaks the silence.

“I know it doesn’t change anything, okay? I know. Don’t you think I’ve heard it a million times?”

Derek flinches slightly, as if he doesn’t like being reminded that Stiles was the one possessed by the Nogitsune. “But that _wasn’t_ your fault.”

Stiles glares. “…Seriously?”

Derek just shrugs, all the fight drained out of him.

Stiles eyes him carefully. “Okay, if I agree that… _that_ wasn’t my fault, will you agree that this wasn’t your fault?”

“Stiles I just…I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” It’s probably the most open and honest thing Stiles has ever heard Derek say to him, and Stiles is unable to deny him this request.

“Okay. Fine. That’s probably a good idea. So…” Stiles casts around for a safer topic. “A big fan of eggrolls, huh?”

“No,” Derek huffs out a small laugh, “I actually don’t even really like Chinese food, but you were being an annoying little shit.”

“What?! Wait, are you serious?!” Stiles demands, “You didn’t even know me!”

“I knew you were an asshole.” Derek says, looking straight ahead and smirking.

“Wow,” Stiles says, “you try to help a guy out and this is the thanks you get.”

“Actually, Stiles, I think I’m starting to feel a little better.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Derek smirks and looks right at Stiles this time, “seeing you suffer has really cheered me up. It’s amazing, I almost feel back to my old self.”

“Okay, okay…who’s the asshole now? Asshole.”

Derek actually laughs at that, and for some reason Stiles feels really good about himself. He knows that Derek was joking, but he feels like there must have been some truth to it – their back and forth banter seems to have relieved some of the tension in Derek’s shoulders and Stiles feels really accomplished knowing that _he_ did _that_. Maybe it’s because he’s seen Derek as a seventeen year old, or maybe they’ve bonded tonight, or maybe it’s just the fact that its three a.m. and he’s exhausted, but Stiles can’t help himself and he says what’s on his mind.

“I don’t want you to get pissed at me again, but I think you really deserve at least one night where you let someone else take care of you. I mean, I know you think you have to do everything on your own but…we freakin’ went to Mexico to rescue your sorry ass, ok dude? I know it’s hard to believe, but you’re not actually in this alone.”

Derek stares at him for a long time before he responds. A very long time. A long enough time that Stiles begins weighing the possibility that he might be able to convince Derek this is all just a dream brought on by weird time travel and possibly that wolfsbane tea he mentioned earlier and –

“Thanks.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say to that, so he keeps his mouth shut. The silence is comfortable and, surprisingly, Derek is the one to break it.

“I think I’m ready to go back to sleep now.”

Stiles gives him a scrutinizing look.

“Seriously, Stiles, I’m feeling better.”

“Okay, good.” Stiles gets up to head to the couch and makes it halfway across the room before Derek calls him back.

“Actually…you could stay, I mean, if you want…”

Stiles looks at him like he’s an idiot and gestures towards the couch. “I am staying, dude.”

“No, I mean…here, if…if you want.” Derek looks slightly pained, “I would feel better not being alone. Right now.” Derek closes his eyes, possibly in an attempt to stave off further suffering or embarrassment or whatever other horrible thing he’s feeling. “I mean…forget it.”

Stiles turns and practically jumps over Derek to get to the other side of the bed. Platonic bro cuddles is totally something he can do and if Derek is actually asking for human contact it must be serious. Derek looks slightly shell shocked by Stiles’ enthusiasm.

“Um…you don’t have to…”

Stiles cuts him off, “No its fine, dude, I totally get it! Seriously. Besides, I told you, you deserve one night of being taken care of, remember? Here you go, one night of comfort, courtesy of Stiles Stilinski!” Derek quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Ok maybe that made me sound like a prostitute but you know what I mean.”

Derek nods. “Okay. One night. And if you tell anyone about this I’ll -“

“Rip my throat out with your teeth, yeah, yeah.” Stiles yawns and turns out the light, “You need to come up with some new threats.”

They lay down next to each other in silence and it’s a lot less awkward than Stiles would have imagined. He wasn’t lying to Derek earlier, he does know exactly what it feels like to need to not be alone and if Derek is asking for that small bit of comfort, Stiles is definitely willing to provide it. Bed sharing doesn’t have to be sexual; he used to do it with Scott all the time. Yeah, maybe it’s been a while but these are seriously extenuating circumstances.

Stiles decides to let Derek decide how much or how little actual touching he’s comfortable with, and the result is that Stiles just kind of lays there waiting for Derek. They lay still for so long that Stiles is almost asleep when Derek does finally cross the line into physical contact. He reaches over Stiles’ body, and Sties is expecting him to maybe wrap an arm around him and hold on, but he absolutely does not expect Derek to grab Stiles’ right arm, pull Stiles towards him so that they’re effectively spooning and then wrap Stiles’ arm around his own body, linking their fingers together.

“Is this ok?” Derek asks in the softest voice Stiles has ever heard him use. For some strange reason Stiles feels like all the air has been knocked out of his own lungs.

“Y-yeah.” Stiles clears his throat. “Of course. Whatever you need, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks Stiles.”

It’s the second time that night Derek has said thank you to him. It’s the second time in Stiles’ life that Derek has said thank you to him. Stiles suddenly feels like he’s in way over his head.

But then Derek sighs in a contented sort of way that lets Stiles know he’s probably about to fall asleep and Stiles is made aware of how comfortable he is how and easily he could fall asleep like this too. Like Derek’s sleepiness has somehow migrated to him though osmosis, he feels his eyelids grow heavy and his limbs settle into the bed. And just in those fuzzy moments before he drifts off, Stiles realizes something that feels important - he’s the big spoon. He’s the big spoon and he feels really good about it. And Derek – _Derek Hale_ – is the little spoon.

His last thought before sleep is yes, he is definitely in over his head.

 


End file.
